


where the lines overlap (between two lungs)

by StrangerHarringroves



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Loves Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Endgame Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Apocalypse, Slow Burn, Steve Harrington Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerHarringroves/pseuds/StrangerHarringroves
Summary: Steve couldn't tell how much time had passed since the world turned upside-down - quite literally.Billy Hargrove was the first living soul Steve encountered and of course Steve had to find him right after his run-in with a demodog, nailed bat dripping with the same gore that splattered his face. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.Semi-post-apocalypse - slow burn





	where the lines overlap (between two lungs)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited to share this, please enjoy 😁

Weeks. Months. Steve couldn't tell how much time had passed since the world turned upside-down - quite literally. It was shit. After that night, the only source of light came from glowing spores that varied in size, quantity and that Steve was keeping well the fuck away from. He was tired of them. Tired of stumbling around in his Scoops Ahoy! uniform and grazing his knees. Tired of the shifting shadows and distant screams. Tired of waiting to die.

Billy Hargrove was the first living soul Steve encountered and of course Steve had to find him right after his run-in with a demodog, nailed bat dripping with the same gore that splattered his face. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Of course Billy had holed himself up in what would be the general store, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Steve had only wanted to clean himself up a bit. His mouth twisted to one side as Billy regarded him in silence, looking incredibly unperturbed by Steve's sudden appearance in the aisle.

Asshole... that was the first thought that came to mind.

"Long live the King." Then came that damned smirk, like the cat that got the cream, seafoam eyes glistening. "Is that really you Harrington, or am I dreaming?"

Steve nodded. It took him a few moments to find his voice and relax the fingers that were curled around the bat's base. "Yeah, last I checked." He swallowed and let his gaze drift away from Billy's piercing stare. Billy always had a way of pinning you, invading almost, all with a simple look. It made Steve's skin crawl and it wasn't entirely unpleasant. Like a moth to a flame though, Steve found himself returning to take in the dishevelled state of Billy - not that boy had ever been particularly neat and tidy. Billy was wild and untamed. Unwashed curls had been swept back and held away from his face by a faded bandana, the rest tied into a knot at the back of his head. Stubble shadowed his features, roughening the contour of his jaw. His clothes, Steve noted, were typical of Billy's usual attire - albeit dirty, torn and a little loose-fitting. All in all, Billy Hargrove looked like seven shades of shit. Beautiful shit. And Steve hated himself.

Billy's attention had switched to the bat in Steve's hand, an eyebrow quirked. Steve made a show of twirling it around, letting the butt of it scrape the floor. Billy cringed at the sound it makes. "I take it that's for those freakshows?" He asked, letting the last of the ashes from his cigarette fall.

Where did he even get those?

"Demodogs." Steve corrected. "It does the job, for now at least." He knew the bat wouldn't last forever or that one day, he'd get caught off-guard. He'd done well to survive this long. "What about you?"

There came that smirk again and Billy got to his feet, reaching behind himself and pulling out a 44 Magnum. He thumbed the cartridge, just like a caress and then Steve found himself a target, the barrel pointed towards his head. His eye twitched and Billy laughed, loud and mocking. The pistol disappeared into the back of Billy's jeans. "Bang-bang."

"Where did you get that?" As soon as the question was aired, Steve felt foolish for asking it. This was Billy fucking Hargrove. Of course he had a gun. He probably had a whole armory under his bed alongside issues of playboy and bags of weed. Wasn't his dad a war vet or something?

"Cop-shop. Swiped it right as things were going tits-up." The reply was so casual, Steve wasn't sure whether he was goofing or not. It didn't sound too far-fetched. Nothing did. Not now. "Everyone else was panicking. Screaming. Running... I just walked in and took it outta the desk draw. Wasn't locked up or nothin'. Got out just in time to put a hole in one of them fucker's heads." Billy demonstrated by holding two fingers up against his temple like the barrel of a gun and popping his lips.

Well. Fuck.

"Come on then pretty boy, let's go." Billy's words startled Steve and when did he get so close? Those intense eyes were on him, mirth dancing within them. Steve grunted as Billy stepped by him, all shoulders, elbows and swagger. Like the dick he was. 

"Um. Go where?" He snapped after him. "Why would I go anywhere with you?" 

Billy's cackle filled the store. "Oh sweetheart, why so callous?" He sang and then, turning back towards Steve, his expression morphs into something more solemn. More serious. "You're the first human I've seen alive for quite some time and I'm willing to bet you have a similar story to tell. At this moment in time, in this fucking - whatever the fuck this is, it's just you and me. We might as well stick together."

Steve shook his head. Laughed a little. "Nah. No way. I got this far on my own thank you very much. You beat the living shit out of me or have you forgotten? No, I'll take my chances out there with the demodogs." Steve certainly hadn't forgotten. Billy's figure looming over him, that feral look in his eyes, the blur of motion as his fists rained down on him relentlessly. The pain and panic. Steve remembered well. The incident was a recurring feature of his nightmares, weaved in with the demodogs, death-trap tunnels and Barb. Even in this waking nightmare, there was no respite in sleep.

If Billy was remorseful he didn't show it and Steve didn't expect any less. The boy simply shrugged and turned to leave again. "Suit yourself, I'm set up in the library if you change your mind." 

Steve watched him leave and once his retreating footsteps had faded, he let out a breath and set his bat down. He found some baby wipes in the end, used them to clean up his face and under his shirt. When the world flipped, he had been at work. The mall was on the outskirts of Hawkins and it had seemed to have taken days to get into town on foot. Days fighting, hiding and pressing on. The familiarity of the distorted buildings, strangled by darkness brought little comfort to him. He tries not to think of why the store hadn't been looted. He tried not to think about the bones that littered the streets or the lumps of flesh that still had a pulse. Tried not to think about who they used to be. The kids were somewhere safe, he told himself. His friends, Hopper, hell - even his parents. They were safe and waiting for this hell to pass. 

Shaking himself into action, Steve began to load his backpack with tins of food and other essentials. As he zipped the bag closed, he forced the lump in his throat back down. There wasn't a plan, he hadn't thought of where to head next. The labs would be an obvious choice but. But what? As if in autopilot, Steve left the store behind. It was quiet outside. It was something that was hard to get used to, just like the absense of the sun, moon and stars. There was often clouds though, not the white fluffy kind or the pink-hued cotton candy kind but the dark ominous type. When those clouds appeared, the air would turn static with the promise of lightning. The electrical storms were as terrifying as they were entrancing, dangerous and destructive. There were no clouds as Steve trudged along the road though, head down and burdened by his thoughts. His eyes burned with the sting of unshed tears. As it turned out, he really fucking missed the sun. 

His feet take a left at the corner, carrying him unconsciously towards Hawkins Library. The building, once dated but adorned with marvels of architecture, was shrouded in shadows like all the others. Gnarled black roots twisted up the walls, framed the door and invaded windows. It definitely didn't entice Steve to go inside and as he looked up at the weathered stone marking the entrance, he questioned why he even stopped here. Why did Billy want to bring him here? What did he mean by 'set up'? 

Steve told himself it was curiosity that lead him through the heavy doors and into the library beyond. The ground floor was a tangle of roots that had burst through the floorboards and left a trail of shattered shelves and books that had succumbed to damp and decay. Two sets of stairs were climbed before Steve sensed any semblance of life. Tucked in a corner, surrounded by a fort of upturned bookshelves and filing cabinets, Steve found Billy stretched out in a makeshift hammock, brows knitted together in concentration as his fingers worked at something Steve couldn't see. It was obvious Billy had been using the library as a base for a while; he spied the wrapper of a fruit roll-up poking out between a pillow and a sleeping bag of all things! 

"What took ya?" Billy was watching him then, sat up and clutching fishing wire between his thumb and forefinger.

"I was just curious." He lied. "This is... cosy (for lack of a better word). What's that?" Steve gestured to Billy's hands. 

"This," Billy grinned and pulled on the wire to reveal a row of empty tins and cans that had been strung up together, "- is a monster detector. I'm rigging this place up." He seemed really proud of that fact and despite everything, Steve allowed himself a small smile. "I haven't been sleeping like, at all. Not properly anyway. I'm always on edge you know? Waiting for one of those shitheads to come and attack." 

Steve could relate. 

"And if they come now-" Billy rattled the cans. "I'll bust a cap in their ass."

Steve nodded and gingerly lowered himself to the floor. He suddenly felt exhausted. It was bone deep and aching. "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing here." He admitted quietly. "I hate y- well, you piss me off. You're the last person I would have wanted to run into so please, don't think this makes us 'buddies' but... it's like you said, we're probably better off sticking together."

Silence reigned for a while until Billy spoke again, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. "Did you just admit that I was right?" 

Steve bristled and shot Billy a glare. "Don't start." It was oddly nostalgic to be saying those words. Billy just wagged his tongue at him and hooted, dropping back down into the hammock to tuck his arms under his head. He couldn't see his face but Steve could imagine the shit-eating grin that the other often adopted. Twisting around until he had his back to Billy, Steve laid the bat at his side and peered into the gloom. "Get some sleep, I'll take watch and we'll swap later."

The grunt that followed was as good of a confirmation as Steve was going to get. Monster alarm or not, Steve knew better than to rely on them. If those cans clattered together, it would already be too late for either of them.


End file.
